


Make Believe

by potatoprincess



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Bad Ending, Coma, Cute, Kissing, M/M, Ren's Route, Ren's Route spoilers, Sad, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoprincess/pseuds/potatoprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been nearly a year, and Koujaku still stared into those blank eyes and pretended he was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Believe

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on the DMMd kink meme: http://dmmd-kink-meme.livejournal.com/2277.html?thread=101861#t101861
> 
> Beta'd by my lovely friend Mia. <3
> 
> This is my first ever fanfic??? I hope the OP and everyone else enjoys it... <333
> 
> Tumblr: http://morphine-mizuki.tumblr.com/post/59153446689/make-believe-by-morphine-mizuki-fandom

It had been nearly a year since Aoba had come to live with him.

His days passed slowly, and for the first few months he never left Aoba’s side. He didn’t work, he rarely went out, he had appointed someone to take care of Beni-Shigure in his place… he dedicated all of his time to taking care of Aoba.

He liked to believe that their months together were happy ones. Everything Koujaku did, he did for Aoba. He helped Aoba bathe, gently brushed his hair, made sure he was healthy and fed and well cared for. He held Aoba’s hand and talked to him every day, and sometimes, if he let himself forget, Koujaku could believe for a moment that everything was normal. He could believe that Aoba was still here with him and that they were living out their days together, happy and peaceful and _right_.

He could pretend that things had never gone so wrong.

When Koujaku did return to work it was only because he needed the money to continue taking care of Aoba. He hated being away from him. Each day that he went in to the salon he never stopped thinking about the blue haired boy who was waiting for him to come home, as always. His work had gotten sloppy but his fans didn’t seem to notice; even his own hair was somewhat unruly but he didn’t have the strength to care.

It had been nearly a year.

Koujaku painfully recalled the broken moments as he had waited for Aoba to finish with Scrap back at the Oval Tower, back at Platinum Jail. He had waited for those eyes to focus on him, to come back to him, even as the others urged him, yelled at him—the tower is collapsing, we have to go, now, Koujaku—and he clung to Aoba’s listless form as if his touch would draw the other from his mind and bring him back. Each second seemed to stretch to eternity as Koujaku begged, pleaded silently for Aoba to wake, but soon seconds turned into minutes and the others practically dragged him away. He carried Aoba from Oval Tower, praying with every footstep that he would suddenly feel Aoba cling to Koujaku’s back as he awoke… but the moment never came.

He had stared down into those empty golden eyes for hours afterwards, holding Aoba’s hand, watching his blank stare, praying to whatever gods might exist that Aoba would come back to him, would be freed from his mind, would have the chance to smile again.

It had been nearly a year, and Koujaku still stared into those blank eyes and pretended he was happy.

Most of the others had disappeared and gone their own ways after Oval Tower. Tae-san and gas mask guy came to visit most often—Koujaku thought that Clear probably hung around in the area but Koujaku never let him get too close to Aoba—and sometimes Mizuki or Haga managed a visit as well. But he could see it in their eyes every time they came. Pity. They thought that he needed to let go. They felt bad for him because he clung so desperately to Aoba. They never spoke about it, but they didn’t need to. The look in their eyes was enough, and it made Koujaku bitter. They would never understand. They would never understand why Koujaku had to believe that there was a chance.

Koujaku pretended he was happy and clung to that chance, no matter how slim. He didn’t sleep anymore. It had been nearly a year.

He stayed by Aoba’s side every night. Most nights the tears would come, and some nights he didn’t have any tears left. He didn’t know how many lamps he had replaced from the times his anger and his desperation had gotten out of hand, but he always made sure he was away from Aoba’s room when he lost control. Aoba shouldn’t have to see his fits, they would upset him…

Koujaku talked to him, all the time. Whenever he could find words to say.

_“The weather was nice today, Aoba. The days are starting to get shorter. Your grandmother said she would stop by this week, probably on Wednesday or Thursday. It’s been awhile since we had her over for dinner._

_“Work is going well, Aoba. We’re happy, right? We…”_

Koujaku never told Aoba how much weight he had lost, or how exhausted he was, or how many days it had been since he’d eaten, or bathed, or slept. That wasn’t important. They were happy, and they were together, and Aoba was well, and that was all that mattered.

_“We’re happy, right? We… Aoba, I… I’m so sorry… I miss you, p-please… come back…_

_“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, Aoba._

_“You needed me and I failed you. I remember, when we were kids, I would always find you when you were sad, or when you needed someone to hold you. You always seemed so surprised when I found you, always insisting that you were fine even though I knew you were lying… I wanted to be your hero. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to be happy. I was supposed to protect you, even now, but I failed._

_“You’re still in there, I know you are. Please, please come back to me, Aoba. I miss you. You always needed me when we were little, but I don’t think you ever knew how much I needed you too. Please… forgive me. I want things to go back to how they were. Maybe we’ll never really be together, but that’s okay, I just… I just need you to come back, Aoba, please…”_

It has been nearly a year, and Koujaku still pretends that he isn’t falling apart.

His fingertips graze Aoba’s cheek as he imagines that Aoba’s eyes are closed and that he’s only sleeping; they move to his forehead as he imagines Aoba’s eyes flickering open like tiny beautiful fireflies that he could never quite catch and hold onto. Koujaku’s thumb skims across Aoba’s lips as he remembers his smile, and he closes his eyes, feeling tears swell in them.

Koujaku leans down, clutching Aoba’s limp hand in his own, and lets his lips brush against still, lifeless ones. And he imagines, for just a moment, those lips pressing back against him, warm and vibrant and full of life, imagines that Aoba smiles into the kiss, and Koujaku swears that he can feel Aoba’s hand squeeze back.

When he finally pulls away Aoba’s face is empty and colorless as always. The tears are flowing steadily now and he chokes back a sob, wiping a few misplaced droplets from Aoba’s cheeks with gentle, trembling fingers.

It’s been almost a year, and the hardest part is knowing that he will never again see Aoba smile.


End file.
